


here and now, i have you

by raevenn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blindfolds, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, Harry's a painter but that's literally only mentioned once oops, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Harry, Subspace, Unsafe Sex, a bit of, set in Italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raevenn/pseuds/raevenn
Summary: At times like this, Harry is really fucking glad he met Louis all those months ago. Because - because now, their relationship has blossomed into something so beautiful, so hopeful, so bright, that Harry can’t imagine a world without him.Or; Harry and Louis bareback for the first time and it marks a very important stage in their relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first fic on AO3 so that's fun. I'm going to try to keep this author's note short, so I hope you enjoy! If you feel up to it, please leave kudos and comments! <3

 

At times like this, with his hands buried in Louis’ hair and his mouth falling open against his will, Harry thinks there _is_ a God after all. Louis’ tongue is swirling around his nipple, enveloping the nub in the warm, wet expanse of his mouth and Harry just - he doesn’t really know how to handle this. It’s so, so good and he never wants it to stop, wants to lock Louis between his legs for all of eternity because it seems as if whenever Louis is there, whenever Louis is with him, all is right with the world. Harry’s no longer a twenty-two year old painter who lives in the mountains of South Tyrol, only scraping by on bills. When Harry is with Louis he’s amazing. He’s something more, he _means_ something. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really. They way Louis looks at him - like he hung the fucking stars - reminds Harry that he _is_ worthy of love, no matter how many times he’s thought otherwise.  

 At times like this, Harry is really fucking glad he met Louis all those months ago. Because - because now, their relationship has blossomed into something so beautiful, so hopeful, so _bright_ , that Harry can’t imagine a world without him.

 He wants to voice these thoughts to his lover, to let him know how much he means to him, how much their relationship means to him. But Louis does that _thing_ with his tongue, flicking it over the reddened bud and pulling back to press a feather-light kiss to it, and all thoughts for future communication fly out the window into the lake beside their house.

 “Lou,” he breathes, sounding more like a plea than the impressed sound he aimed for. Louis kisses the center of his chest and the personalized bird tattoos on his chest before looking up to gauge his reaction, gently prying Harry’s hands from his hair. And like, Harry doesn’t even have a word to explain how Louis looks right now, there is not a single word in the world that could equate to Louis’ elegance and beauty. His lips are swollen and pink like strawberries, hair disheveled from Harry’s hands, and his chest is littered with love bites from the previous night, and Harry thinks he’s already used to seeing him like this. He hopes he won’t ever have to not be used to this. Used to the way he’s looking at him now, eyes full of adoration and love, even if he hasn’t voiced it yet.

 “Are you okay, love?” Louis asks, voice soft and light, reminds Harry of the color _pink_ and yeah, Harry’s definitely okay. He tells Louis as such and watches as Louis lets a brief smile cross his face.

 “Great. Do - Do you want to keep going?” Louis sounds cautious, like he’s treading on thin ice, and Harry doesn’t know why. They’ve always been intimate, last night was a testament to that, they’ve never been afraid to shove their hands down the other's pants. Sex has never been an issue.

 Harry knits his brows, “Of course. Are you okay?”

 His lover sits up, leaving Harry with a cold chest and a sinking feeling curling in his stomach. Louis sighs and runs his palms over his face, as if he’s scared or frustrated. Harry feels the sinking feeling develop into fear.

 “Lou…” he tries, gently of course, and reaches a hand out to brush against Louis’ forearm. At least he’s still in Harry’s range of touch.

 “I just - I’m scared to ask this of you because we’ve never done it. We’ve never gone _that far_.” He sounds nervous and Harry wants to wrap him up in a blanket and protect him from all of the evil in the world, just like Louis already does to Harry. He wants to return the favor. He is a bit confused, though.

 “We’ve never gone that far? We have sex almost on a daily basis, babe. Just last week you - “

 “No, no. Christ, that’s not what I meant.” He sounds frustrated and vulnerable again. Harry wants to cry.

 “I’m just going to come out and say it. And if you suddenly want to break up with me and leave South Tyrol and never see me again, it’s perfectly understandable and I’d even help you pack your bags.” Harry feels that sinking feeling come back, but this time it’s accompanied by an uncontrollable urge to laugh. As if he would ever leave Louis, let alone South Tyrol. He’s become quite fond of the tiny Italian province.

 “Okay.” He speaks, sounds quiet, scared of Louis’ next words.

 “I don’t want to use a condom. I want to - like, I want to just, I don’t know, have that connection with you? Like, I get that it’s a connection every time we have sex but,” he sighs, face burning from embarrassment, “I just don’t want a piece of flimsy Latex between us.”

 When Harry and Louis first had sex, it began a rushed act of just getting each other off and soon transpired into actual penetration that left Harry aching for days. He remembers being in Venice looking for inspiration for his next painting, having been in a drought for three months, and walking into a bar after a long day of sightseeing. He’d met Louis not long after, half drunk off his ass and half mesmerized by the other boys’ beauty. They’d started dancing, walking cliche they were, and then before he knew it, they were back at Harry’s apartment, clothes strew across the floor, and bodies colliding into hot, sweaty messes that stuck with him for days. He remembers Louis asking if they should use a condom and answering, ‘of course’. He remembers seeing Louis ponder something for a fraction of a second and then ask Harry to toss a condom to him and all was forgotten. At least on his part, that is.

 But now, having been together for six months, Harry’s in love and he wants to give that part of himself to Louis. They’ve already done everything else imaginable together, just not _that_. He’s always explained barebacking as being too intimate of an act to perform with someone you’ve barely met, and he guesses Louis remembered that and it seems as if Louis doesn’t think Harry will want to do that with him. But lately, he’s got that urge to just do it. Which is why he pressured Louis into getting tested a few weeks ago (Louis had been extremely confused and little turned on. Harry refused to tell him what it was about).

 “Louis. Look at me.” Harry commands. Louis complies, eyes full of fear and regret. Harry sincerely hates it.

 “I’ve been wanting you to ask this for a month now, you realize that right? It’s all I can think about, I just - I want it so much.” Harry lets out, and he definitely doesn’t mean to tack on that last sentence.

 Louis looks kind of shocked, kind of relieved, and a lot turned on, so Harry lies back and looks up at him under his lashes. Louis fish mouths a bit before: “Seriously? You - You want that too?” He still seems unsure, Harry doesn’t know why.

 In an attempt to stop Louis from any more doubt, he pulls him down for a kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck. He moves his lips softly, trying to pour all of his feelings he has towards the recent events into it. Love, hunger, adoration, helplessness. Louis seems to understand now, kissing back fervently and stroking down his side with a soft hand. Everything is soft, but it also has an underlying current of need and Harry wants to unleash that part of him, the needy part, because he just wants to make this good for Louis. Wants him to know that there isn’t anything he won’t do with him. _For_ him.

 He groans instead of whining like he wants to, and pulls at the tendrils of hair that fall on the back of Louis’ neck. Louis’ tongue prods his way into his mouth as his hand trails down his chest. Harry opens his mouth easily, welcoming the sweet, hot, warmth of Louis’ tongue as goosebumps arrive on the surface of his pale skin.

 The first touch of Louis’ hand on his cock feels magical, like he’s just jumped into a warm shower after walking around the snowy areas of the mountain for a while, like he’s just slipped into Louis’ arms for the night, enveloped by the warmth he seems to always be emitting. He breaks the kiss to let out a choked-off moan, tipping head back the farthest bit and letting his mouth fall open. Louis breathes harshly, raking his eyes down Harry’s chest to where his own hand is stroking Harry’s cock ever-so-slowly. Harry can feel him harden against his thigh, can feel his own arousal pooling in his stomach as of the result of the agonizing teasing.

 Louis then attaches his lips to the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder to form a love bite. Harry hates to love him but also loves to hate him.

 He whimpers when Louis’ hand picks up speed, thumbing over the slit, and he feels himself emit a drop of precome. Feels Louis groan against his neck at the same time and he uses that precome to lubricate his fingers as he starts pumping him even faster.

 “Fuck. I - _Lou_ , oh my God. Please,” he pleads, voice an octave lower. He pulls at Louis’ shoulders to get him to back up and when he does, he fucks his cock into Louis’ hand, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Harry whines high in his throat when Louis whispers a rough, “Fuck”, lips pressed to his ear. He feels that heat, that searing but pleasurable heat, coil at the base of his spine, causing his thighs to tremble and jerk and he knows he's about to come. Which - that's not good. He’d like to come on Louis’ cock, if it were up to him.

 So he pushes Louis away and squirms out of his hold, breathing heavily with flushed cheeks. Louis’ looking at him as if he's a fallen angel, all soft but concerned all at once.

 “Y’okay, love?” Louis asks, voice rough like his throat had just been roughly fucked. It sends a shiver down Harry's spine. Louis has Harry's head bracketed between both of his arms, looking down at him in curiosity. Harry meets his eyes and _god_ , his eyes. Louis’ eyes are like Jamaican waters, all clear and blue and _beautiful_. They're like the sky on a cloudy day, can either be a dreary blue-that's-almost-grey, or a bright, crystalized blue. Harry's come to learn that he doesn't prefer one over the other, as long as he gets to wake up to them everyday.

 Harry nods, suddenly remembering the task at hand. He lightly drags his fingertips down Louis’ chest, fingers gliding through the sparse reddish-brown hair and down to his waistband. It doesn't take long for goosebumps to arrive on the surface of Louis’ skin, and Harry inwardly smirks, basking in the accomplishment.

 “Can you fuck me now, please?” He asks - _politely,_ of course - and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, feeling warm when Louis’ pupils dilate even more.

 Louis seems mesmerized, dark eyes fixated on Harry’s mouth, so Harry teases him. He trails a hand down Louis’ wrist and grasps his hand, gently bringing it up to his mouth. Louis adjusts so he's holding himself up with one arm, still watching him with a fierce look in his eyes. Harry flutters his lashes seductively and pops Louis’ middle finger into his mouth, laving over the digit with his tongue. He watches as Louis curses under his breath and snatches his hand away, grunting.

 “You want me to fuck you, Harry? Get you all ready for my cock?” He's sliding down Harry's body, kissing his nipples lightly to remind Harry of their earlier endeavor. He kisses down his stomach as Harry moans, arching his back slightly.

 “Fuck, look at you,” Louis whispers, pulling back as his thumbs ghost over the laurel tattoos he'd gotten on a drunken rampage two years ago, “Want my mouth?”

 In lieu of a reply, Harry grinds his hips up, hoping to convey his thoughts on the matter. He wants Louis mouth. Doesn't matter where, cock, hole, his own mouth, hips, he just _wants_ it. He wants to feel Louis’ tongue on his skin, wants to feel the warmth of his mouth, wants to feel messy and _owned_.

 Instead of Louis immediately bending down to get between Harry’s legs and give him what he wants, he slaps Harry’s thigh lightly and says harshly:

 “Use your words, Harry.”

 Harry whimpers at the chastising, breathing raggedly through his nose.

 “Want your mouth, please. Lou, I-”

 He cuts off into a guttural moan as Louis quickly throws Harry’s legs over his shoulders and licks a thick stripe from his taint to his hole.

 Eating Harry out has always been one of Louis’ favorite acts to perform. He's always been quite fond of the way Harry absolutely fell apart on his tongue, sometimes licking him out so intensely that he slips into _that_ head space. The head space where Harry feels like he's floating, where he feels as if he's not a part of the world, but just a star in the sky, light and empty but also so deliciously full he can't stand it. Because Louis fucks his tongue into Harry like he does with his cock. Sometimes it's hard and fast, causing Harry to push back against his tongue until Louis looks up, mouth shiny with spit and lube, and tells Harry to ride his face. Or other times it's slow, deliberate drags of his tongue, occasionally flicking across his rim that leaves him sobbing into the pillow he's shoved his face into.

 “Fuck,” he whines, reaching down to palm at his erection with one hand and tug on Louis’ hair with another. Louis is gripping the backs of his thighs in a possessive manner, only making Harry more hot, as he quickly fucks his tongue into his hole, quick little jabs that are _so close_ to his prostate.

 Louis pulls back and Harry groans from the lack of a tongue between his cheeks _and_ from how Louis looks totally destroyed, hair mussed up and lips shiny and _red_. His eyes are dark, black almost fully covering the blue, when he speaks, “Are you touching yourself, Harry?” His tone is curious, not harsh, but Harry knows he’s fucked up. Louis just has that way of intimidating people, Harry included.

 His bottom lip quivers, “Yeah. I'm -”

 “Is that what good boys do?” Louis asks, “Because I don't think it is.”

 Harry quickly backpedals, doesn't want to disappoint Louis. Wants to be a good boy.

 “No.” He whimpers pathetically.

  _Sometimes_ , they played like this. Louis in a dominant role (he always is but when they play like this - this is when he gets into Dom Mode) and Harry, the submissive. It's an act of mutual trust, really. Louis knows how Harry slips under when they play like this, even deliberately trying to get him there occasionally, and he knows how to care for him afterwards. When they play like this, Harry has a thing for pleasing Louis, doesn't want to disappoint him because when he does, he either gets punished or he doesn't get to come. And now, Louis is _disappointed_ and Harry can't have that, he has to fix it. Has to make him happy with him again.

 He opens his mouth to say something, a plead, an offer to suck his cock maybe, when Louis beats him to it, “Do you need punishment, Harry?”

 Harry bites his lip so hard that he feels blood rushing to the surface, almost breaking skin. “No, Lou. Wanna make it up to you. Can I suck you? Please?”

 Louis groans and Harry feels his dick twitch against his thigh. He tries not to whine.

 “You think you deserve that, baby?” Louis asks quizzically, raising his eyebrows as if to challenge Harry to smart-off. Harry just… stays quiet. Doesn't even answer because he doesn't want to let his desires slip out of his mouth. His desire to get Louis above him again, thighs bracketing his face as he thrusts into Harry's mouth.

 “Please,” He breathes, head feeling spacey, like he's going to just ascend out of their home and into space at any given second. “Please, Lou. Want you.”

 Louis seems to have an internal debate, one half of his conscious telling him to just give in, and the other telling him to keep up his role, to punish Harry for disobeying him. He smiles wickedly when he decides.

 “No.” He says simply, standing up and walking towards their dresser. Harry's eyebrows immediately raise and he sits up, legs pulled up close to his chest. He tries not to get whiny because he's been with Louis long enough to know that Louis doesn't like whiny unless it's _good whining_. It's pretty hard not to let out a whine when he sees what's in Louis’ hands when he turns around, cock bobbing up against his stomach, brushing the reddish - brown hair of his trail.

 “Face down arse up.” He commands and when Harry doesn't move: “C’mon. Haven't got all day, have we love?”

 That seems to kick Harry out of whatever daze he was in, quickly turning on his tummy and getting on his knees. He decides right then and there that he's not going to be able to keep his arms up so he rests on his forearms instead, staring at the cherry wood of the headboard in anticipation. He can hear Louis moving around behind him, wants to look back but he can't because that's _bad._ Louis is trying to surprise (or punish, Harry's not really sure yet) him, he doesn't want to ruin it.

 He's about to open his mouth and protest when Louis throws the offending object at him, obvious smirk lilting his tone as he says, “Put it on for me, baby.”

 Harry breathes out a shaky, “Yes, Lou” and wraps the elastic around the back of his head, eyesight completely blacked out by smooth, dark silk. Louis hums and rubs his cold hand into Harry's skin and he just _knows_ his fingers are already lubed up; can smell the strawberry scent and practically taste it on his tongue as he feels like cock twitch, brushing the sheets.

 He gasps when Louis spreads his cheeks and presses a finger lightly against his hole, hips bucking backwards and head falling forward. His hair falls in his face and he all he can think about is how Louis loves when his hair does this when he's blowing him, all sloppy and messy, because he usually has to pull Harry up by his hair and not only is it pleasurable for Harry, Louis like being able to be in control. 

 “Please,” he whimpers, voice gone hoarse from trying to keep in whines. Louis seems to notice it, stopping his ministrations immediately.

 “Harry, don't hold back. I wanna hear you, okay? Wanna hear how good I make you feel.” To punctuate his sentence, he slips the tip of his middle finger into him. Harry can’t hold it back, has to moan because the sensation of not being able to see - _being restrained_ \- mixed with the feeling of Louis’ finger prodding at his hole sending a spark through his spine.

“Jesus,” He breaths, and Harry can’t even _see_ him but he just knows that Louis is making that face, the one that he makes when he’s in utter awe of what’s in front of him. The face where his eyes darken, his mouth drops open slightly, and he looks as if he’s stopped breathing for a while. “You’re so fucking hot, Harry.”

 If Harry weren’t currently relishing in the feeling of Louis’ thick finger massaging his walls, he’d respond with a snarky comment like, “I know”, but he can’t. He physically can't open his mouth because his brain isn't coordinating with his body, it's too overwhelmed. Louis is behind him, stroking his soft hips and moving his finger slowly in and out of Harry, unusually quiet.

 Harry pushes back onto his finger, body screaming at him to fuck back onto it. It feels _amazing_ and that's the thing. This isn't anything new, Louis fingering Harry while he's restrained. They've dabbled in bondage with Harry's old headscarves a few times and they've used the blindfold one other time, but it's never been like _this_ . Harry's on the bed with his arse in the air, eyes covered and head falling between his shoulder blades (that position certainly isn't new), and he feels so overwhelmed. There's so many sensations he's feeling at once; Louis slipping a second finger in and feeling around for his prostate, Louis stroking his hips and whispering how amazing he is, _Louis._ It seems as if this new endeavor is strengthening his senses, seeing as everything feels so much more intense than it ever has.

 “Lou,” he murmurs quietly into the crook of his arm. He breathes out against his forearm, feeling the hot, damp air on his skin when Louis squeezes his hip and fucks his fingers in quicker and deeper, admonishing him for speaking without permission. His hips jerk forward and that's _it._

 He hears Louis grunt and feels him rub a soothing circle onto his back, he whines and bucks his hips back again. And from there, that feeling akin to a fire pooling in the base of his spine returns, only to ignite more furiously when Louis finally finds his prostate. Harry lets out a moan far too obscene and loud to be dubbed as appropriate, and starts to grind his hips back rhythmically. Surprisingly, Louis doesn't spank him, instead slipping his fingers out. What the fuck.

 Harry's too out of it to complain, though, feels his head get increasingly more spacey as each second passes. He whimpers and wiggles his bum teasingly when Louis doesn't automatically return to his hole.

 It's out of the blue, is what it is, when he feels hands on his cheeks, pulling them apart and a tongue between them again. His knees want to collapse but he - he can't collapse, has to stay upright for Louis because Louis _wants him to_ . He wants to make Louis happy. But _fuck_ , Louis is licking a thick stripe across his hole, kissing his lower back when he reaches it. It's so much, it's so intense and Harry really fucking likes this. And if he was actually able to string together words, he'd tell him that but alas, he can't.

Louis presses a kiss over his hole and pulls back, “Suck on your fingers baby, know you want to,” he returns to his hole without another word, easing his tongue inside of him. Harry rests his forehead on one of his arms and brings his other hand up to his mouth, slipping the first three fingers into his mouth. He's messy with it, saliva collecting around his mouth and chin. He's moaning as Louis starts to fuck his tongue inside of him, getting fast and faster each time Harry whines explicitly or jerks his hips back.

 And, Harry still can't _see_. He still only sees the black fabric when he opens his eyes and holy shit, he feels tears well up in his eyes. Not because of pain, but because Louis is rimming him and commanding him and he's restrained and so fucking overwhelmed - it's not a bad thing. Louis is making sounds behind him, licking into him like some sort of starved animal, kneading his cheeks and smacking them a bit, roughing Harry up even more.

 “Mmm,” Harry lets out, voice muffled and unintelligible due to the wet, slippery fingers in his mouth.

 Louis licks him once more and Harry comes. His hips spasm and he moans loudly as and he bites down on his fingers, but it's so good. It's so good. Louis licks him through it, doesn't spank him for coming without permission like he usually would.

 When Harry stops coming, his fingers slip out of his mouth unwillingly, bones feeling like jelly. He has no idea how he's keeping him self up but he's not focused on that right now because Louis is kissing his cheeks.

 He hears him whisper a “So, so beautiful” into his milky skin and that's all he needs. He feels Louis stand up, bracing one hand on Harry's back, “You ready for me to fuck you, darling?”

 Harry wants to say yes, wants to plead and tell him he wants Louis to fuck him into next Thursday but he can't speak, mouth feeling full of something but nothing. His head feels fuzzy, and all he can think about is _pleasing Louis._ So he does what he can and nods wordlessly. He hears the slick sounds of Louis pumping himself, most likely lubing himself up before he reaches a hand around and strokes Harry long and hard, only once. Harry whines from sensitivity, hips jumping away.

 “Shh.” Louis whispers as he removes his hand from Harry's limp, sensitive cock. Both of his hands return to Harry's hips and he feels the tip of Louis cock catch on his rim and he moans lightly, burying his head further into his arms. His back arches further, presenting his arse to Louis even more and then Louis's slipping in. It's easy, not too painful, but it's _different._ They don't have a condom this time, they're together and fully connected, skin on skin, nothing more.

 Louis groans once his balls are flush against Harry's taint, laying over Harry's back.

 “I'm - _fuck,_ Harry.”

 From there it's slow, it's so, so slow. Harry feels so full, so worked up, and he feels his cock thicken up again. His heads still not there, he's not with Louis, not mentally. He's gone to _that place_.

 Louis fucks into him, kissing all over his back and he loves him. He loves him so fucking much.

 “Fuck, I'm - gonna come. Harry, not gonna last long.” Louis grunts, tightening the grip on his hips and fucking deeper into him. Harry feels the tip of Louis’ cock brush against his prostate and he pathetically fucks his hips back, wants more. He's no longer sore, instead he's rapidly hardening again, the feeling of Louis thick cock spreading him out doing a lot to help.

 Louis thrusts get erratic and Harry knows he's about to come, so he tries to lift himself up a bit more and push back and then Louis’ coming, grinding his hips slowly and deliciously into Harry's bum. They're both moaning, the sheer heat and ecstasy of the situation eliciting a filthy moan out of both of them. There's come filling his arse, stream after stream of Louis’ release. It's so hot and it's so good.

 When he's done, Louis takes a deep breath against Harry's back and slips out, Harry grimacing at the soreness. He’s ninety-nine percent sure there's come dripping out of his arse and that's just _hot._ He thinks they're done, thinks Louis is going to grab a wet cloth and clean him up. Thinks they're gonna cuddle, he wants to cuddle and sleep. He really wants to sleep. Which is why he almost yelps when he feels Louis’ fingers prodding at his hole again.

 He whines, trying to move his hips away but Louis holds them in place with one hand, two fingers fingering the come out of Harry's arse with the other and _what the fuck._

 His cock twitches against his thigh, almost about to go over that line, about to come, when Louis removes his fingers. Harry feels empty and it's weird - it's weird because he's never felt like that before. Never felt empty after sex. It's new. Louis tells him he can take off the blindfold and Harry does so hastily, blinking at the light. The cherry wood headboard is staring back at him, he looks down and sees the pillows, to the right and sees the window, sees the mountain outside of their house.

 It feels so surreal, that this is his life. He feels so lucky and in love and God, he's happy. That doesn't distract from the fact that he's really hard, though.

 He gasps when he feels a hand around his cock, Louis isn't going slow for this, stroking fast and hard. He rubs his thumb over Harry's slit a few times, Harry moaning and pushing his hips forward.

 “Gonna come, baby? Yeah?” His voice is rough, dark, and it quickly takes the place as the sexiest noise Harry's ever heard, tied with the audio recording of him getting himself off for when they had to be apart for two weeks.

 He nods, grunting quietly when Louis squeezes him again.

 “Love you so much, Haz.”

 And that's - that's too much. Harry silently comes, hips thrusting forward, painting Louis’ hand with his come. It's like a relief, knowing that Louis loves him back.

 Of course he'd _known_ , but it wasn't ever confirmed, so he was nervous that it wasn't the case. That he was stuck with a bout of unrequited love.

 Louis kisses his cheek and tells him he's going to get a cloth, Harry looks up silently, tongue still feeling too heavy to form any words. He watching as his bum jiggles with each step Louis takes towards the bathroom and breathes out.

 Louis returns quickly, and turns Harry over as he wipes the come from his arse. Harry's bones feel liquidized, like he can't move, doesn't want to move. After, Louis throws the cloth to the floor (which he knows will make Harry mad when he comes back to him) and crawls up to Harry's side. He wraps himself around him, proper big spoon he is, and kisses the space behind Harry's ear.

 “Come back for me, baby. I love you so much, darling.” He whispers, voice softer than usual, something sweet, reserved for only Harry. He tangles his fingers with one of Harry's hands, rubbing his thumb over his baby soft skin.

 “So good for me. Come back to me, come back to Lou.” Harry slowly but surely feels his head start to clear up. If he was more articulate right now he'd compare it to the sky clearing up after a storm and he's awaiting the rainbow that usually comes soon after. He feels his bones start to come back, like he's being stitched together again, like he's Harry again. It's fucking scary, it is. Feeling like you're just there floating, and he's trying to come back, trying to come back to Louis, but there's something keeping him in that head space.

 “Harry baby, I love you. Always have. Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

 Harry sees the rainbow. Not literally, of course, but his head clears up at those words. Maybe not completely, but it's enough so that he can talk and move voluntarily again. He smacks his lips, turns his neck and he sees Louis’ arm wrapped around his side.

 He feels a pair of lips press to his neck when he whispers “I love you too” and he's home. Louis is his home. No matter what they do, no matter what happens. No matter if they move to fucking Australia, he'll still be his home, the one he comes back to everyday, the one he cries to, the one he laughs with. The one he marries.

Being in Louis’ arms is where he belongs. He’s home. 

**Author's Note:**

> so that's a thing.  
> [tumblr](http://tdoj.tumblr.com/)


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